


Confessions

by ChickadeeChick



Series: Impressions [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChick/pseuds/ChickadeeChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa reveals to Novak why he lost to Roger in the 2009 Madrid Masters final.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I had to come up with *something* after Rafa's loss.

“You know, that was a pretty bad impression of me out there today.”  Novak had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at where Rafa was sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I, at least, would have taken a set from Roger.”  
  
“Not funny.” Rafa’s eyes tracked Nole’s movement across the room to one of the hotel chairs, but he didn’t raise his head.  “Maybe if I no play four-hour match day before I do better.”  
  
Nole rolled his eyes, giving out no sympathy.  “Bullshit.  You play four and a half with Verdasco and then another marathon with Roger and still win in the end.”  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and sighed hard, running his hand through his short-cropped hair.  Rafa watched him out of the corner of his eye, but Nole kept his eyes on the carpet.  “Look, this… whatever this is, isn’t going to work if you are still in love with him.  I know we’re not serious, but I am not playing his replacement.”  Novak was watching Rafa carefully now as the Spaniard just stared blankly ahead.  “I need more respect than that, at least.”  
  
It was Rafa’s turn to sigh and look at the carpet.  He ran his hands over his face.  He shook his head with a self-depreciating smile.  “Si, si.  I know, I know.”  He turned on the bed, folding one leg under himself, so he could face Novak.  “I be honest.  I no know if I still love him.  I think no.  But I did not lose match for Roger.  I no like see Roger hurt, and he hurt too much lately, but is not… present.  I just so… tired.”  Rafa’s shoulders slumped as he looked down and away.  
  
Not even Nole was immune to Rafa’s obvious physical and emotional exhaustion.  A small smile broke through his previously cautious expression and he stood, walking around to sit behind Rafa on the bed.  He pulled himself most of the way onto the bed, one leg bent and pressed against Rafa’s far side, the other over the edge, his chest against Rafa’s back, his chin on Rafa’s shoulder.  His hands found their way around Rafa’s waist, hands on his stomach.  The Spaniard leaned back into the touch.  
  
“You never just some replacement.” Rafa whispered, his eyes closed.  “Roger never that much of an ass.”   
  
Nole nipped at the back of Rafa’s neck, teeth leaving a red mark.  “You should talk.  They just don’t catch you on camera.”   
  
Rafa chuckled.  “That your problem, no mine.”  He put his hands over Nole’s where they pressed against his abs.  “I no lose match for Roger.  I wish I lose match for Roger, maybe that is better excuse than…” Rafa swallowed hard, voice dropping low.  “I think I lose match because of you.”  
  
Nole leaned back a bit.  “Tch.  I know you have the stamina to win another match after four hours the day before.  I know that much for certain.”  
  
Rafa smiled and looked over his shoulder.  “No what I mean, Nole.  When I with Roger,” at this Nole stiffened a bit, but Rafa continued, “When we play, I no like beating Roger.  I do it, but it not feel good, not really good, not like real win.  I think is only because we friends, but then we become lovers.  I realize no like to beat Roger because I love him.”  Rafa paused for a moment, his hands sliding over Nole’s.  “I no like beating you anymore, Nole.”  His voice had dropped to a whisper again.  “So, si, you have respect from me… you are no replacement for someone else.”  
  
Novak moved his arms away from Rafa’s waist and leaned back further, but he didn’t totally pull away.  “This wasn’t supposed to be serious.” His voice had a forced flatness to it.   
  
Rafa nodded.  “Si, I know.  I no expect to feel this.  Is all so confusing.  So I no think today, no room for tennis in my head.  And so I lose.”  
  
“Rafa…” The name came out as a sigh as Nole bent to rest his forehead between the other man’s strong shoulder blades.   
  
“Is why I think I no love Roger no more-” Rafa stopped abruptly, as if he was going to say more, but left the rest of the sentence to Novak’s extrapolation.  
  
“Rafa…” Nole repeated, almost a warning this time.  “I can’t… you don’t really… I don’t…” He sighed in frustration.  “You aren’t really saying this…”  
  
Rafa put his hand on Nole’s knee where it touched his side.  The Serbian didn’t shun the touch.  “I think I am.”  
  
“Jesus, Rafa…” Novak puts his hands tentatively back on Rafa’s waist.  “This is not supposed to happen.  This is not supposed to be serious.” He repeated the last sentence like saying it would make it true.  
  
Rafa chuckled and gave the other man a sly look over his shoulder.  “Oops?”   
  
Nole let out a bark of laughter and pressed himself full against Rafa once again, unable to stay away for long.  “This is… unexpected.”  He paused, composing himself, trying to choose his words carefully, but Rafa was patient. “And I… I don’t know… I just… I don’t know, you know?”  
  
“Is okay.”  He leaned back against his lover with most of his weight, surprisingly content.  “I just think I should tell you. What is they say, no weight on shoulders? Maybe it make me play better again, no?”  
  
“I certainly hope so.”  Nole said as he pressed his open mouth to the back of Rafa’s neck, tongue darting out to press against the skin there, which tasted of soap.  “I don’t like losers.”  
  
“Mm.” Rafa purred under Nole’s touch.  “You say you like me be number one, then?  Always me above you in rankings?”   
  
Novak nipped at Rafa’s neck, causing the mark from before to redden further.  “Ass.”   
  
Rafa laughed, but his breath hitched as Nole started pulling his shirt up and off.  “N-Nole…” He groaned and arched as rough hands ran over his now-exposed chest.  “Por favor, stay t-to-to-esta noche… please.”  Rafa’s Spanish and English stuttered and mixed as Novak knew it always did when he was distracted.  
  
“Si, of course.” The Serb smiled, nuzzling the nape of Rafa’s neck and pulling his lover against him.  “When do you leave tomorrow?”  He was running his hands over Rafa’s shoulders and arms, over the smooth curves of collarbones and biceps.   
  
Rafa slid one of his hands from Nole’s knee backwards up his thigh and under his shorts, pawing at his upper hamstring and hip.  “Late, por la tarde…”  
  
“Good.”  Nole’s voice was breathy as his traced the lines of Rafa’s neck with his lips, who quickly arched his neck to extend that expanse of skin.  “You’ll be busy until then.”  
  
“T-Toni will look… me at breakfast…” Rafa’s voice hiccupped as he felt a tongue curl around his earlobe.   
  
“I’ll call him and tell him you are busy.”  Nole’s lips traveled down a muscled shoulder, tracing the dips and grooves of smooth skin.  
  
Rafa laughed, a nervous sound.  “He tell you that he going to beat your skinny ass.”  Rafa’s hands were grabbing at both of Nole’s thighs now, nails digging red crescents into the skin.  “With that stupid new racquet of yours.”  
  
“Tch.” Nole nipped at the top of Rafa’s bicep, one hand reaching up to tease a nipple, completely ignoring that comment about his racquet.  “That is a privilege only his nephew gets.”    
  
“Really?” Rafa leaned his head back onto Novak’s shoulder.  “I should take advantage of that sometime, no?” He nuzzled Nole’s ear.  “Put leather collar around your neck…” His lips trailed along the skin of said body part.  “Tie up your wrists…” Rafa grabbed one of Nole’s wrists quickly and violently, whipping it out and towards the interior of the bed.  The Serb landed on his back and Rafa was suddenly atop him, lightening fast, pinning his wrists above his head and straddling his hips.  Rafa ground his own hips down, causing Nole and moan and arch up.   
  
As he came back down, Novak flexed his arms under the Spaniard’s vice-like grip.  It never ceased to surprise Nole how strong Rafa was, how toned his muscles were _everywhere_ , even in his hands.  Rafa smirked at his lover’s slight struggle, a triumphant look, but he wasn’t expecting Nole to spread his own knees and thighs with impressive, rapid force, pressing their groins together hard.  Rafa let out a surprised moan and fell forward, their chests bumping together and faces suddenly only a few inches apart.  It was Nole’s turn to smirk.  “You were saying…?”  
  
Rafa huffed a laugh and took his lover’s lips in a dominating kiss.  “I say you wear too many clothes.”  
  
“Mm, I agree.”  Nole arched his head up and took another kiss from Rafa as he pulled away.  “But you will have to let go for that.”  He wriggled his hands for emphasis.  Rafa grudgingly agreed, sliding his hands down paler muscled arms, over hard pectorals and abs, before grabbing the hem of the blue shirt and pulling it up and off as Nole lifted his torso upwards.  
  
Now similarly bare-chested, Novak sat up and grabbed at Rafa’s hips, tugging the shorts down even as Rafa pulled at his own.  Although their limbs tangled a bit, they were both soon naked, and Nole pulled Rafa down on top of him, nearly purring at the sensation.  He grabbed Rafa’s ass in a wanton display of affection and ground them together, causing them both to hiss.  Rafa clawed at the sheets on either side of Nole’s head.   
  
“R-Rafa… drawer… nightstand…” Novak gasped out as his hands moved lower, spreading Rafa’s thighs so they were on either side of his hips.  The Spaniard reached over, fumbling with the drawer handle for a moment as Nole licked at his chest, but eventually grabbed the familiar tube of lubricant.  Nole took the tube with one hand and fisted the other in Rafa’s hair, bringing him down for another kiss.   
  
When Nole’s slick fingers probed behind Rafa there was no resistance and he could have sworn the Spaniard even rocked backwards a little.  They usually fought over this, wrestled until their arms and lips were sore with aggression, neither willing to submit easily.  This, this was totally new, more unexpected than Rafa’s confession earlier that evening, and it made Nole moan into his lover’s mouth.  
  
There was no doubt Rafa was rocking back now, forcing Nole’s fingers further into him, all the while whispering, chanting, “…want… want… por fa-v-vor… want…” into the curve of the Serb’s neck.  
  
Rafa cried out when Nole grabbed at his erection with his free hand, not knowing when Nole’s hand had left its tight grip in his long hair.  Rafa’s hands were now fisted in the pillow on either side of his lover’s head, arm muscles strained, eyes screwed shut and mouth gaping open.  Nole smiled at the image of Rafa above him, almost pained in his pleasure, and started to whisper nonsense words to him in Serbian.  He soothed Rafa with words and hands as he removed his fingers and replaced them with something much more intrusive.  Despite all this Rafa’s back still went taught as a bow when Nole carefully pushed up and into him.   
  
Novak watched, entranced, as Rafa grit his teeth and inhaled sharply, eyes still closed.  What he didn’t expect was Rafa to let out a short scream, a noise akin to something he might shout when a perfectly good forehand sailed into the net, as he impaled himself hard onto Nole’s cock.  Nole let out a long stream of rough curses in Serbian.  
  
Rafa actually chuckled at that and opened his eyes, his balls finally resting against Nole’s groin.  “Want to do that for weeks…” His voice was low and breathy and unsteady.  
  
Nole had no verbal response to that, just let his head fall back into the pillow, one hand digging hard into Rafa’s thigh and the other still fisted, but unmoving, on the Spaniard’s cock.  He cursed once more in Serbian and Rafa laughed softly again before he leaned down to steal kisses from Nole’s open mouth.   
  
Rafa began a slow rolling of his hips, up and almost off of Novak’s cock, but forward into his unmoving hand, then back, impaling himself again, but moving away from that sweet-hot grip on his own arousal.  When Nole finally got it together enough to twist his wrist, Rafa yelped, his rhythm hitching.   
  
“Faster!” Novak growled as he slid and twisted his hand on Rafa’s erection.  “Move faster damnit!”  And Rafa didn’t have the will left to do anything but comply.  The bed started making noise under them, mattress springs squeaking and wooden box spring creaking along with the wood of the bed frame, as the whole set-up moved with the _thud thud thud_ of Rafa’s hips.   
  
Nole worked hard to keep his own eyes open, making sure that the image of Rafa riding him hard, head thrown back and hair dripping with sweat, sweat rolling down those perfectly toned shoulders and pectorals, was branded onto his mind; he would no doubt want to call on that image again in the long spaces of time they spent apart.   
  
Rafa’s own noises were getting louder and louder, whines and cries drowning out the sounds of the old bed.  He let out a surprised gasp, eyes going wide, when Nole thrust up into him once, twice, three times, and then came hard, hand clamping down painfully tight on Rafa’s cock.  And the Spaniard would have come then, wanted to badly, but Nole’s hand was so tight, so so tight, that Rafa screamed out his frustration and clawed at his lover’s wrist.  Novak opened his eyes and looked to his hand, it only dawning on him then that his knuckles had gone white with the strain of his grip, and what it was doing to Rafa.  As soon as his fingers loosened the tiniest fraction Rafa was pouring his orgasm all over them, whimpering with the relief of it as he slumped down and on top of Nole.  
  
Laying on Nole’s chest, Rafa placed lazy kisses on his collarbone, his neck, any sweat-sticky skin he could reach without much effort.  Novak’s arms curled around Rafa’s tan back, fingers of one hand tracing idle patterns there as he dozed.  It occurred to Novak that maybe this wasn’t all as unexpected as he thought, not to his subconscious at least, because this just felt so right, like it had since this all started.  And damnit if Nole wasn’t comfortable right here, holding Rafa, dozing as their heated skin cooled.  
  
 _Yeah,_ Novak thought, _I could get used to this._


End file.
